


evenfall

by A_Beautiful_Beast



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: M/M, fellas is it gay to cuddle another man and love him with all your heart and soul
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 07:37:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18751936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Beautiful_Beast/pseuds/A_Beautiful_Beast
Summary: When Geordi had insisted they try out a hammock ‘just for fun’, Data had not quite understood the appeal over a regular bed. Laying here now, with gravity itself tucking their bodies together as the edges of the hammock cocoon around the two of them, he reassesses his earlier presumption and finds it sorely lacking in any good sense.





	evenfall

**Author's Note:**

> last night i was mysteriously possessed by the Muse after weeks of writing being equivalent to pulling my own teeth. this is the absolute softest thing that i've ever produced.

“Computer,” Data murmurs at the lowest volume detectable by the sensors, so as not to wake Geordi. “Nighttime lighting.” The lights dim and Data’s eyes adjust with them, settling into a darkness comfortable, though unnecessary, considering Geordi’s VISOR had fallen to the ground six minutes and twenty-one seconds ago when he had first begun to sleep and relaxed the hand that held it. Lowing the lights seems appropriate nonetheless, because that is what humans do during sleep, but mostly because that is what _Geordi_ does during sleep, necessary or no.   
  
Tightening his left hand slightly where it is curled around Geordi’s waist, Data leans forward as much as he can with a head tucked against his neck. The fabric of the blanket gathered around their hips brushes his fingertips and he grasps at it, pulling it up over Geordi’s shoulders. Carefully, he folds the ends around Geordi’s sleeping form with his free hand, making sure no draft can slip in from any angle.   
  
When Geordi had insisted they try out a hammock ‘just for fun’, Data had not quite understood the appeal over a regular bed. Laying here now, with gravity itself tucking their bodies together as the edges of the hammock cocoon around the two of them, he reassesses his earlier presumption and finds it sorely lacking in any good sense. Despite his perfect recall, Data finds himself carefully filing away each moment of this experience for later remembrance.   
  
With a quiet noise Data can only interpret as contentment, Geordi shifts against him, an exhaled breath sending a wisp of sensation along the place where his neck meets his shoulder. Geordi does not seem to wake and for reasons Data cannot explain, he finds this favourable.  
  
The hammock trembles slightly with Geordi’s movement and Data uses the foot he has kept on the ground to still it, then pauses. He begins to shift pressure from the heel of his foot to the ball, rocking the hammock forward, then changes the pressure from ball to heel, rocking it back. He repeats this at a rate of precisely twelve seconds per full cycle, finding the repetitive motion appropriate.   
  
His right hand smooths the blanket against Geordi’s back, coming to rest on the nape of his neck. For reasons Data does not care to analyse, his fingers begin to meander through the hair they touch almost aimlessly. He stills them with a thought when Geordi twitches.   
  
Oddly, though Data can hear the rumblings of machinery and voices and footfalls from all down the hall if he chooses, it all seems very far away, dreamlike, as if somehow muffled by the darkness and the unending sensation of Geordi’s body pressed against his own. He shuts the other sounds out and listens only to Geordi, the drawn-out respirations and thumping constriction and relaxation of his heart sending minute vibrations through both their bodies. Data can map every increase and decrease in pressure between them, where they are pushed together most tightly and where they leave gaps that are more than infinitesimal. Despite knowing the impossibility of eliminating the atoms that lay between even the spot where his hip is no doubt digging a valley into Geordi’s thigh, he feels strangely compelled to try to remove this barrier anyway.  
  
Geordi shifts once more against him, a motion which both makes Data wonder about humans’ seeming lack of ability to remain still and causes Geordi’s shirt to ride up just enough for the thumb of Data’s left hand, still wrapped snugly around Geordi’s waist, to meet warm skin. The closest thing Data has experienced to instinct is the sudden necessity of moving that thumb as far as it will stretch forward, then back across the plain of skin now available to him, in sync with the foot still gently rocking the hammock.   
  
According to his internal chronometer, it has been six minutes and three seconds since he dimmed the lights, and twelve minutes, twenty-four seconds since Geordi entered into the first stage of non-REM sleep. He should be progressing to the second stage any moment now, if it has not already begun.   
  
There is a sudden sensation of moisture on his neck. Geordi is drooling. Data’s mouth begins to curl up slightly around the edges, despite him not consciously initiating this action. This should probably be cause for a self-diagnostic, especially as these sorts of things have begun to occur with significantly higher frequency and duration as of late, but Doctor Crusher had not seemed concerned when he had sought her opinion on the matter, and as well Counsellor Troi had maintained that it was to be expected. Data was not entirely sure he accurately grasped quite what she had meant by that. He supposes that, on the whole, none of it is of any consequence. In fact, the consequences of anything unrelated to maintaining the curve of Geordi’s body against his own seem incredibly unimportant as of right now, and he dismisses the entire train of thought within barely a tenth of a second of beginning it.  
  
It would be appropriate to begin his dream program now. Data finds himself against the idea, sweeping his thumb again along Geordi’s side. Without permission, it sneaks further along the expanse of Geordi’s back, pulling the rest of the hand with it to greedily feel underneath the cover of his shirt, the beginnings of the dip toward his spine. The skin there is warm and caves easily under the pressure of a few curious fingers. Data dares not try to reach further, his arm caught under the the weight of Geordi’s middle in a way that cannot be comfortable for him.  
  
With yet another movement, Geordi seems to shuffle somehow closer, again changing their dynamic virtually not at all and yet entirely too much. A feeling on his neck registers as the sensation of lips pressing against his epidermal layer. The pressure lessens but does not leave entirely as Geordi mumbles in a warm, humanly incoherent breath: “Data, sleep.”  
  
He wants to protest; he cannot find it within himself to do so. Carefully, he tilts his head forward and kisses the top of Geordi’s head. The moment somehow does not last long enough when he moves away, so he does it again. Geordi smiles against his neck, murmuring more insistently this time, “ _Sleep_.”  
  
He does.

**Author's Note:**

> they: gay and in Love


End file.
